


Witness

by Perelka_L



Category: Naruto
Genre: (if you consider Itachi Shinden Canon that is), Angst, Canon Compliant, Fugaku-centric, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Inspired by Itachi Shinden episodes, Mangekyou Sharingan, Multi, Ominous, Time Shenanigans, Which show interesting things that do not appear in novel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:14:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22563094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perelka_L/pseuds/Perelka_L
Summary: Risk is easier if you don't see everything that could ever go wrong.Risk is easier when you have not much left.
Relationships: Namikaze Minato/Uchiha Fugaku, Uchiha Fugaku/Uchiha Mikoto, Uchiha Mikoto/Uzumaki Kushina
Comments: 10
Kudos: 27





	Witness

**Author's Note:**

> A fic about Fugaku's Mangekyo Sharingan and what ability it could have.
> 
> At one point in anime adaptation of Itachi Shinden, we are shown Fugaku having Mangekyo and he used genjutsu to show Itachi a vision of his clan forcing him to use it to force Kyuubi out of Naruto and conquer the village this way.
> 
> I wondered about it, and quickly wrote this little thing.

There was no such thing as "present", and it was something Fugaku was keenly aware of. His experiences in life were merely composed of "future" and "past", and only one of those ever mattered.

When he became a clanshead, there was only future. He desired to leave the past behind, make an attempt at leading the clan into the war looming above their heads and away from the darkness of the history; of prejudice, of difficult alliances. He trusted his eyes and his judgement, and if those failed he tried his best to listen, Mikoto always by his side and always with a wisest word.

He hoped.

That is, until Kushina and Minato died and his eyes showed him so much more than he could ever dream of - be it fantasies or nightmares.

Blood under his eyelids was something he at first mistook for blur of tears mixed with crimson of anger, of desperation - he was helpless, helpless when he thought he witnessed small flames always burning bright in his and his wife's lover disappear and vanish into an embrace of death. He thought he merely saw things. It was the first time he ever mistrusted his eyes.

And Mikoto on this evening touched his cheek and he looked at her and she had blood on her and he touched her face, long red lines of blood flowing from her eyes and he understood, and she understood. They suffered, and it was enough, so they clung to each other and in complete silence. He could see glow from his eyes dance on her hair as he pressed his nose to her neck, trying to overwhelm himself with her presence. He could feel her lungs spasming under layers of material, and he was sure he was sobbing as loud as she was. 

It lasted whole night, and even though they often discussed events of that night - in so many tones, in so many contexts as the void they have left in their hearts was dark and deep - they never talked about tears made of blood. 

He was sure Mikoto also had the gift of Mangekyo, received on the same night as he did. 

He never asked, and she never asked about his Mangekyo as all.

His new eyes, his horrible new eyes that could splinter the future and past and make a present - a present he could unravel in his fingers like a thread, pull a blood-red string of fate and watch everything collapse in hundreds and thousands of ways.

The first day he tried one night to try his Mangekyo, he wanted to not only faint of exhaustion just to regain peace, no, the murmur of Nakano was all too tempting - but he had two sons and a loving wife and his clan and two dead lovers and hateful eyes of the village.

He always looked into the future, but it was always so much easier to gamble with when he wasn't sure what the outcome would be. The risk was always hanging in the air, never entirely defined - as long as you aren't aware of most gruesome of most improbable scenarios, you are no longer afraid to thread carefully. Fugaku, though, always was careful.

And he saw all the risks now, as clear as a sharingan could witness them, and he tried to not collapse. 

Mikoto's eyes never missed this change in him, but she never commented. A silent agreement lasted - and Fugaku wasn't sure he wanted to know what Mikoto have witnessed with her eyes, and she didn't want to know either. He kissed darker rings under her eyes and silently begged for forgiveness. She rewarded him with a hand threading through his hair, calming and soothing, a blade of a knife to which you cling with your bleeding fingers when there is nothing else to cling to. 

And Fugaku looked, truly looked into threads tangled in his fingers as he lied down with head on her lap and choosing and pulling one.

He never showed Mikoto his eyes. He felt sick that his son was the first to witness them, as he showed - showed him, truly showed - him one of thousands threads he saw hanging around that he could pull, that he could choose and how those would make the world collapse around him.

And with that simple action he let the string tying him to Itachi unravel and 

there could be a blade to his back.

there could be a hanging.

there could be glory and peace.

for now, there will be a family dinner and kissing Mikoto's knuckles on their futon.

He will tell her, if the worst will come. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.
> 
> I also wondered how Fugaku and Mikoto reacted so peacefully to Itachi killing them. I know it could be them not wanting to fight - but both knowing they ran out of literally all possibilities could also be a factor, in this case.


End file.
